Prologue: A Summer's Tale
by ThreeOranges
Summary: A short prequel to the main action of Shakespeare's THE WINTER'S TALE, in which we see more of the Leontes and Polixenes relationship. Slightly slashy, if you want to see it that way.


**Author's note:** I know it's extremely arrogant to write a Shakespeare fanfic in blank verse, but - trust me - it wouldn't have worked any other way. This is intended as a short prequel to the main action of THE WINTER'S TALE, in which we see a little more of the Leontes and Polixenes relationship. Slightly slashy, if you want to see it that way. And yes, I know Bohemia doesn't have a coast: you'll have to take that up with Shakespeare, when you see him...

**Prologue: A Summer's Tale  
by ThreeOranges**

The coast of Bohemia. Enter PRINCE POLIXENES, a young man of eighteen, at a run, followed closely by the young PRINCE LEONTES.

POLIXENES: There, ha! Saw'st thou, the race was mine?

LEONTES: I saw,  
And, hadst thou had the grace to give fair warning,  
Thou wouldst have lagged behind me.

POLIXENES: Ha! Thou liest,  
For many an month have we these rocks o'erleapt,  
Made drumming beat of these our sprinting strides  
To sink upon this stretch of silver strand -  
And once in every eight hast thou been victor,  
The rest all mine.

LEONTES: As everything is thine.

POLIXENES: What mean'st thou? Say!

LEONTES: I spoke but of this scene,  
This fair dominion through which we rac'd,  
These forests, glassy springs and teeming earth,  
These rocks, this green promontory, these sands,  
All is Bohemia – and, one day, thine.

POLIXENES: Oh let me not think on it! True it is  
That one day I shall govern – but, 'tis not boon  
But cruellest exchange. For this must my dear father,  
The noblest of men, be lost to me,  
And truly, I am fear'd his present illness  
May rob me of a dearly-loved parent  
And march me to the throne, to wear the crown  
Whilst sore distressed. Leontes, thou art blessed:  
Thy father's still in hale and robust mould,  
And thy sleep is not troubled.

LEONTES: No, i' faith!  
I'm glad indeed my father is in health -  
And yet, I must confess, it irks me hard  
That thou mayest be a King ten years or more  
'Fore I may be a King in mine own turn.  
I shall be but a newly-minted crown,  
Soft metal, yellow, inexperienced,  
Whilst thou, a seasoned and a stable monarch,  
Shall mock my babying steps.

POLIXENES: Oh never, never!  
Think rather, that I serve to clear the way  
For thee, and all the hazards I encounter  
Shall warn thee of the accidents to come.  
So whiles I rule, thou'lt watch me trip and fall,  
And when thy time has come, thou'lt take thy country's throne  
And guide Sicilia wisely, making none  
Of my mistakes in judgement.

LEONTES: Sicily!  
Her name alone has power to rend my heart,  
Transport me there, to scent again her breezes,  
To see her rocky slopes, red as the blood  
That flows within my veins – and ah, the sea  
That laps our island's edge, so sparkling clear  
That thou wouldst swear it tastes not salt, but sweet.

POLIXENES: I long to see it with thee – and I shall,  
When thou art risen to the throne as King.

LEONTES: When comes that day, Sicilia shall grow in strength;  
My hand, like the tender herbalist's, shall train  
The sapling common-weal to stretch and branch  
Until it, topp'd, bends forth to spill a profusion  
Of flowers. Beloved Sicily, blessed twice o'er;  
Blessed in its fair location and its prize  
Of loyal strength – and, under my command,  
I'll bring such justice as will tame its blood  
And force that wildness into perfect measure.  
Then shall the world pay tribute to Sicilia,  
Embassies shall bend the knee, and marvel,  
And all the heav'ns rain delectations down,  
When I am King.

POLIXENES: When such estate is mine,  
Let my life set the brilliant of Knowledge  
To best advantage! Let Bohemia be  
A hav'n for scholars and philosophers,  
Wherein they may with safety, and with reason  
Rein'd by their conscience, give the world new treasure.  
Let every man of every faith come forth:  
The priest, the rabbi and th' evangelist  
Shall squabble oft, but, living close together,  
Shall view their neighbours' merits with their flaws  
Until such friction shall be soothed to rest.  
The mathematician's art shall work strange wonders;  
Astrologers shall with their glass sweep o'er  
The vast uncharted ocean of the skies  
And find new orbs, whilst thinkers probe the deep  
Uncharted regions of our very selves  
And bring fresh light.

LEONTES: And this, above all else:  
We'll seal in compact straight as friends and brothers  
The bond between us.

POLIXENES: Two lands in union,  
Bohemia and Sicilia! Take my hand,  
And let us swear, in compact true and honest,  
Our everlasting faith.

LEONTES: And that right gladly. They take hands  
Would all lands and nations could possess such trust  
As that which flows between us at this hour!

POLIXENES: I am your own.

LEONTES: I yours, and shall be so  
Until thou tak'st a wife.

POLIXENES: And far beyond!  
Think'st thou a marriage should be proof to sever  
The bonds of friendship such as ours?

LEONTES: It can  
And must; for, when a monarch takes a wife,  
Turn his thoughts then to children and to home.  
Gone then are all those sunlit days of youth,  
Or thought of - if at all - with that same smile  
That looks on toys, on foolish childhood games,  
On things outgrown.

POLIXENES: How shall I outgrow thee?  
Leontes, thou art so dear unto me  
As makes expression frail!

LEONTES: Yet, I repeat,  
Thy heart is there in trust for thy dear mate  
And not thy playfellow. Be ours a faithful pact,  
A union of nations - but no more.

POLIXENES: Leontes! Dost demand a proof of me,  
To shore my word against the tides of fate?  
If so, demand it straight. Thou'lt have it, now -

LEONTES: Take heed of what thou sayst, Polixenes,  
And render me according to thy heart -  
Not greater than thy own affection, but  
An equal of thyself. I do abhor  
Those promises which swell as rotten fruit  
And burst in putrefaction.

POLIXENES: Truth, not so!  
For what will serve to prove to thee I love thee  
But some rare thing that lasts as long as I?  
I have it! Thou shalt have my word, Leontes.

LEONTES: Thy word?

POLIXENES: Aye, thou shalt have my royal word.  
Know thou, that when none may stay a King's command  
Or change his course, that thou shalt have that power.  
One word from thee shall change Polixenes;  
Thy word shall bend him from his appointed course,  
Wrest him from that decision hence ordained  
And bring him unto thee – and, if he dost not,  
The very bolts of Heav'n would not persuade him so.  
Take this my promise, and be reassured.

LEONTES: One word alone?

POLIXENES: But one word - and that thine,  
O my Leontes!

LEONTES: My Polixenes!  
Truly, I cannot bear to lose this hour.

POLIXENES: We'll not, but burn this into memory  
To warm or fire us, as occasion serves.

LEONTES: And like twinned stars, whose constancy survives  
To shine i' th' inconstant weather, shall we thrive.  
I am thine own, Bohemia, for ever.

POLIXENES: And I for thee – for ever!

The young men run away across the sand.


End file.
